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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024067">Significance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violux/pseuds/Violux'>Violux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Skins (UK)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, one shots of the boyfriends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:40:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violux/pseuds/Violux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jesus fuck, Max. I thought you had pissed off to the store, y’ know actually being useful- the fuck are you doing?” His confusion shown in his voice as he opened the door of their bathroom only to find his boyfriend hunched over the sink with leaflets and bottles surrounding the tap. Just as he was going to speak the chemicals finally hit him, oh so it was that time of the month.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Cook/Freddie McLair, Maxxie Oliver/Tony Stonem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1. Bleach</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[Incert Alaska Thunderfuck voice]<br/>Hiiieeee!! So, This is the first fic I'm posting, will I regret it when I'm older (older being a month from now)? Of course I fucking will, but live, love, laugh and Facebook minions meme from a group filled with Karens would tell me to continue, so here I am. Anyhow, I love Skins (Uk version obviously, who the actual fuck liked the US version??) and especially this couple/ship so of course I'm going to embarrass myself by posting these fics pero that's my grave I'm digging for myself. Enjoy!💜</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Unlocking the front door of their two- or was it three now? Fuck it, he’d have to ask or check the dates of the overwhelming amount of pictures on his phone- apartment was a pain in the arse as he still struggled with the keys every once in a while, but Tony also understood why, after the whole ‘Sketch’ fiasco his boyfriend was still a bit paranoid, to say the least.</p>
<p>After kicking his shoes off and to the side- knowing it would earn him a complaint or two later on when a certain dancer would ungracefully trip over them, it was honestly a miracle he hadn’t split his head open or broken something.-he took a few long strides straight through their small-arse-hallway (“‘S not the architect’s fault you’re six foot two, Tone”) into the kitchen, cursing as the realization of the fact that they hadn’t bothered to go to the store the day previous dawned on him, </p>
<p>“Maxxie!” </p>
<p>After a minute or so and not getting an immediate response or even a groan from being woken up triggered a slight panic, deciding to push it down and investigate, as the answer could be as simple as a trip to the store, which would make sense, but something that didn’t make sense was that Maxxie knew when Tony would be home and would always text him something along the lines of “Gon 2 the store brb,” though, to be fair it usually consisted of an impressive amount of spelling errors. </p>
<p>Just as he was about to fuck off to bed for a nap so he could ignore the dishes that he should wash and put away but that’s beside the point- he had a near heart attack to the familiar yell of his boyfriend who was currently in the bathroom Tony was just passing. “Jesus fuck, Max. I thought you had pissed off to the store, y’ know actually being useful- the fuck are you doing?” His confusion shown in his voice as he opened the door of their bathroom only to find his boyfriend hunched over the sink with leaflets and bottles surrounding the tap. Just as he was going to speak the chemicals finally hit him, oh so it was that time of the month. </p>
<p>For other couples (a.k.a. not the gays) that would usually mean the girlfriend’s ‘auntie flow was going to be visiting for a few days’ or whatever the fuck girls called menstrual cycles nowadays. For Tony, this meant Maxxie was dyeing his hair from a dirty blonde to practically white. He watched as the same person who was a near sponsor to ‘Schwarzkopf’, straightening his posture and grinning at him. “Is fuck the only word you know?” Deciding to ignore the teasing and instead opting to lean down to kiss his much shorter boyfriend, his confusion hitting him once more (not unlike Michelle decking him after finding out what happened between them in Russia) and the cause this time being the hand on his shoulder stopping his movements. He only noticed the accidental- and slightly embarrassing whine he had let out as it’s response was Maxxie’s warm laugh, and he really likes Maxxie’s laugh so he wasn’t that bothered.</p>
<p>“You’re gonna get bleach into your hair, Tone. And not to say you wouldn’t look good as a blonde, I quite like your hair as it is. Plus we don’t wanna recreate Anwar and I’s matching look,” Letting out a small sigh Tony nodded in agreement. Maxxie was right, didn’t mean it didn’t fucking suck arse though. What sucked more, however, was how the man in front of him brought Tony’s attention to his appearance which was near painful to look at. <br/>His boyfriend stood in front of him was dressed in only a pair of sinfully small, revealing, black boxers that contrasted with his pale white skin. “For Christ’s sake Maxxie,” The comment was an obvious mistake as the practically naked man in front of him started swaying his hips ever so slightly, in the way he knows makes Tony go mad. “Okay, okay. Stop.” Placing his hands onto Maxxie’s hips to stop the movements which made the shorter man giggle. “Have you done your roots?” The response he got was a quick nod. “I just need to wait for a few more minutes,” Making a noise of acknowledgment as he started tracing small patterns onto Maxxie’s hips and leaving a few quick kisses from his neck to his shoulder before being swatted away by the same boy. “I need to take a shower, Tony,” Already smirking as he responded. “I’ll join you,” Seeming to think about it for what felt like forever Maxxie (finally) relented “...Fine, but you’re washing my hair.”</p>
<p>And as much as Tony complained about Maxxie dyeing his hair and how he knew later in the year when it got colder, Maxxie’s hair wouldn’t be the only thing bleached as so would his sweaters Maxxie liked to wear, fuck if he didn’t love helping his boyfriend wash his hair afterward.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cracked Windows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"click’, ‘click’, ‘click’, ‘crack’ “Shit!” </p><p>The familiar hiss is what made the previously asleep Freddie finally sit up. (...)</p><p>the second he got to his window he noticed the small new crack in the left corner of the glass, which he’ll now have to tape off as the shitty winter weather was coming, speaking of shitty weather, the storm himself was currently stood in his garden </p><p>Cook,"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey!! So I knew I said there'd be angst but I don't know if this actually constitutes as that? Also if you're uncomfortable about reading two mentions of male genitalia in conversation and also is a small mention of child neglect and touch deprivation, then don't read!💜</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Click’, ‘click’, ‘click’, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘crack’ “</span>
  </em>
  <span>Shit!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The familiar hiss is what made the previously asleep Freddie finally sit up. Rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over his bed, making it a point to check his bedroom floor of any dirty clothes or something like his skateboard, what he was most anticipating was something sharp, (he can still see the marks of where his foot was pierced with Karen’s hairpins and earrings that were ever so </span>
  <em>
    <span>conveniently </span>
  </em>
  <span>left in his room, “must’ve been a mix up with the laundry,” she had claimed, saying she had “left them in her pockets, or something,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>bollocks</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>deciding that it was safe to get up, but mostly accepting his fate as his blurry vision wasn’t something he’d usually rely on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the second he got to his window he noticed the small new crack in the left corner of the glass from the pebbles a <em>certain </em>boy liked to throw at his window to get his attention had caused. One which he’ll now have to tape off as the shitty winter weather was coming. <em>Speaking</em> <em>of</em> shitty weather, the storm himself was currently stood in his garden </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cook,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cracking his window open, -praying to who or whatever the fuck was up there laughing at him, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>not let his dad wake up due to the creakiness of his window,- he instantly regretted not pulling a shirt on as the chill instantly nipped at his tan skin, ignoring this, however, and  choosing instead to lie his forearms on his </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold as fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> windowsill, leaning out his window and giving the frequent visitor an expectant look,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” the raspy voice ‘whispered’, which admittedly got a surprised snort from him, which in all honesty shouldn’t take him off guard in the slightest as this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>much Cook. The perpetrator was in a simple dark tank top and light grey joggers, an outfit he probably ran out of the house of, if his hair and overall appearance was anything to go by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Cook,” admittedly it sounded as though he was agitated which he really wasn’t. Playing the game was just much more fun and severely underrated as he preferred this back and forth than just letting Cook know the back door was open, having left it open as he knew he would be visited at-, turning his body to the left ever so slightly to get a better view of the alarm clock on his desk,- two in the morning. Turning back around the shorter boy, -with currently </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>messier hair than usual- who was still stood in his garden looking up at him,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To suck your thick cock-” quickly covering his face partly covering a groan and deepening blush he could already feel creeping over him despite the chilly air. Cook’s attempts at silencing his throaty laugh was futile as it normally was whenever Freddie showed any sign of embarrassment, (in situations like these his mind instantly goes to the time Cook had accidentally brushed his hand against Freddie’s on their way to meet the ‘rest of the fuck ups’- as Cook so sweetly called them- which made Freddie heat up and struggle to respond to the boy’s simple question of ‘You okay, Freds?’ before noticing the obvious way Freddie’s hand was fidgeting where Cook’s had brushed it and getting this knowing smirk and fully grabbing Freddie’s hand, lacing his fingers through Freddie’s own, laughing at the other’s red face. Not to mention how he held onto Freddie’s hand as well as constantly touching him throughout the day before falling asleep draped over Freddie’s chest,</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck, anyways-</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before the boy could say </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything else</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Freddie gave him a small smile with a quick, “The doors unlocked,” letting out a quiet chuckle at the way Cook’s face lit up at the new information, watching as he practically bolted to the backdoor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After about five minutes of grunting from Cook and creaking from the stairs, the more fitter of the two, -which wasn’t surprising as Freddie was tall, lean, and..well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>lanky</span>
  </em>
  <span> whilst Cook was short-ish, quite lean and- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>the boy had muscles beneath his often scared yet oddly smooth and soft skin- finally tiptoed his way into Freddie’s room, wearing a mischievous smirk, his eyes glinting happily had made his way into what could only be considered as their room. Without another word the grinning enveloping Freddie into his strong arms, and as cliché as it sounded it was someplace safe and comforting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You okay?" Freddie felt himself ask softly against Cook's hair. He already knew what the answer was going to be but Cook needed to be reminded how much he mattered to Freddie as he hadn't done that enough due to his own insecurities, which in all honesty was a shitty reason not to at least attempt to ease the anxiety his best friend had. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>To be honest,</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wouldn’t be surprised if Cook had some sort of form of touch deprivation. It wasn’t as though his mother nor father gave their eldest so much as a passing thought, let alone a hug, so it wasn’t all that shocking when Cook would at seemingly random times need any sort of physical affection. It made Freddie happy to be able to help ease his friend’s stress and anxiety levels to some extent but to see how tense he could sometimes get was worrying, to put it lightly.) The feeling of Cook pulling him closer is what snapped his attention back to the matter at hand, getting Cook to forget his usual insecurities and the row he must’ve had with his mum which resulted in him running to Freddie’s house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The same thing happened more frequently, the having and wanting to crash at Freddie’s house, and what really hit him was the comment Cook gave the group in defence of him, practically spitting at the notion of someone not trusting Freddie with a, ‘Piss off, you lot don’t know shit, I'd trust Freds with my fuckin’ life,’ mind, he was as pissed as the rest of them at the time, and the sunkissed boy was going to push it out of his memory completely if the pale boy hadn’t made it clear to Freddie in the early hours of the morning, in his bed that in fact did trust him with his life and he loved him, all of that including a peck to the lips before passing out next to the beat red-faced Italian teen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Making sure to keep eye contact with those pretty blue eyes of his friend’s as he listened to his response. "Yeah, 'm good now," that one scentence, how could (almost) four words hold this much power over Freddie’s body? he could feel the excitement and warmth in his chest. He seriously needed to see a doctor or therapist as he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>been this bad. He sounded worse than the fawning women on the telly, the ones Karen watched and thought were stupid, never the less she watched the same reruns every evening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Giving the boy a sleepy smile and a nod in acknowledgement. “C’mon then,” he encouraged before flopping back onto his bed, making sure to leave as much room for the other boy as possible, “Grab the blanket from th’ fuckin’..Whatever the portal t' Narnia is called,” the sleepy comment made the brit currently rummaging through his shit let out an </span>
  <em>
    <span>attempted</span>
  </em>
  <span> quiet laugh,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After what felt like forever, Freddie could feel the bed dip as Cook made himself comfortable, pulling the blanket he had found over the two of them in addition to Freddie’s comforter, as he let their legs tangle he took notice of the skin to skin contact meaning the boy presumably facing him had discarded his joggers and tank top and was now only dressed in simple briefs. Feeling a kiss being pressed against his forehead he squinted his eyes open to properly grin at the boy messing with his hair, who reciprocated, “It’s called a wardrobe, Freds, I thought you were supposed t’ be the smart one out of th’ three of us,” snorting, “Cheeky git, I’m recked ‘n we’ve got school tomorrow,” instead of making an obvious sex joke, Cook suddenly looked at him seriously, “Thanks, Freds. Seriously, thank you, for everything,” being caught slightly off guard Freddie took obviously too long to respond which he could see made some part of Cook regret his openness, and we can’t have that. Instead of giving him a verbal response, Freddie pulled himself up in the bed so he was properly facing Cook, leaning in without a second thought and kissing the boy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thankfully </span>
  </em>
  <span>the previously unsure teen gained his confidence back in a matter of seconds (probably due to the fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> as well Freddie, how good of a kisser he is,) by deepening the kiss. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>this felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, finally gaining enough balls to actually kiss the boy, and after all this time it was really worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After their initial kiss, both had continued it with sleep filled pecks before finally giggling to themselves at how obvious yet surprising all of this was, “This mean I can suck your cock?” responding to the cocky smirk with a muffled laugh and bringing their foreheads together as his body temperature rose, “Go to sleep, fucker,” shutting his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of the boy in front of him moving, after a minute or so of this, before Freddie could mutter a complaint he felt Cook give light, feather-like kisses on his left cheek, bridge of his nose, brow, and forehead before shuffling closer to him and draping an arm around his waist. The last thing Freddie could remember before succumbing to sleep was Cook’s fingers drawing small designs into his tan skin and a whispered ”Night, Freds,”.</span>
</p>
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